


Distaff

by shadowsong26



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: AU, AU - Anakin is a cis girl, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anakin is pregnant, Crack Treated Seriously, Everyone is very confused, F/F, She is very confused, The Force Did It, The Force is really invested in the twins okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2018-09-11 15:20:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8995492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsong26/pseuds/shadowsong26
Summary: In which Anakin Skywalker is a cis lady and the twins' gestating parent.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, lord, this project. Soooooo this is a fic which started as utter crack and then decided to take itself way too seriously (that was, in fact, my working title--thanks to Roommate for giving me the one I've used!). In essence, Anakin Skywalker is a cis girl. So is Padme. Anakin still somehow gets pregnant. She is very confused. Everyone is very confused.
> 
> And then ROTS happens.
> 
> Apart from one detail which will be revealed at a later date, everything up to this point happened as it did in canon. Canon here includes primarily the prequel movies and Clone Wars TV show, as well as various EU/OT/etc. details as I'm aware of them and they seem relevant--as those of you who read my other fics might know, I haven't seen Rebels, and backstory/plot details revealed in that show were not taken into account when plotting this fic.
> 
> Anyway, here goes!

Padme hovered just out of view of the cameras, between two pillars, waiting for Bail Organa to finish talking to Anakin about--something, she couldn’t quite overhear them. She clasped her hands in front of her, resisting the temptation to shift from foot to foot with impatience.

Okay, _mostly_ resisting.

In her defense, it had been _months_ since she’d last seen her wife-- _wife_ ; even after three years, the word still felt tingly and new. Who could blame her for being impatient? Especially when Anakin was _there,_ almost close enough to touch, but just out of reach.

Ani had her serious face on, but she was moving easily and naturally. _Probably not hurt, then, even after fighting Dooku_ and _Grievous, and then that crash. Or, at least, not seriously._ With that very necessary evaluation out of the way, Padme let herself just drink in her wife’s face and presence.

She had been letting her hair grow out since she was Knighted; it was almost to her shoulders now, slightly disheveled from activity and half-out of the band she’d tied it in for combat. A few wayward curls were sticking to her face, probably with sweat. Padme itched to push them aside, and twine them around her fingers as she held her beloved close.

She _did_ seem a little tired, to Padme’s expert eye, which was a little worrisome, but--well, it had been a long day. Probably after a string of _other_ long days. That wouldn’t be surprising; Ani had never been very good at stopping _anything,_ or at resting; she tended to fret when she didn’t have something to _do._ And the Jedi were stretched thin, even thinner than they had been at the beginning of the war. For someone like Anakin, who was so valuable at the front, leave was hard to come by without obvious, desperate need. And, fortunately, all evidence indicated that she hadn’t hit _that_ point yet.

Besides, tired or not, overworked or not, she was _here;_ whole and alive and _here._

And, _finally--_

“Excuse me, Senator,” Anakin said, resting a hand lightly on Bail’s arm, carefully looking anywhere but at where Padme was lurking.

“Of course,” he said, and moved on after the others.

Anakin wasted no time in changing direction and picking up speed, half-jogging over to Padme and pulling her into a warm, tight hug.

“I’ve missed you,” Ani murmured into her hair.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she replied softly, arching up on her toes to kiss her. “There were whispers that you’d been killed.” And, without exposing their secret, there was only so much she could do to track down those whispers, and find out how much truth there had been to them.

She hadn’t slept much, the past few weeks.

But that was all behind them, at least for the moment. Ani smiled at her, still more flippant than Padme liked at the idea of her own death. “Nah, I’m all right. Glad to be back, I thought they’d _never_ recall us. But then the Chancellor got kidnapped, and...well. Here I am.”

“Here you are,” she agreed, with a smile of her own.

Anakin grinned again--oh, _hells,_ she loved that smile--and bent down to kiss her again.

_...wait, where are the cameras here again? Didn’t they add another set to this entrance last week?_

“Not here,” she breathed. “Come on, be careful…”

Ani blinked, then sighed. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Um. Sorry.” Another smile, this one sweet and a little sheepish. “I just...I missed you, and I was excited, and…”

_...huh._ Usually, when Padme pointed out they were getting a little too close to discovery for comfort, Ani would fight her on it. Or, at minimum, sulk for a while. She decided not to ask, not right now. She didn’t want to waste any of their few precious moments together arguing, or coaxing Ani out of one of her more petulant moods. Not if she could help it. “I know,” she said instead, squeezing her wife’s hand.

Anakin squeezed back, then got a positively _mischievous_ glint in her eye, and raised it to her lips.

Padme rolled her eyes--while more common from gentlemen, the courtly gesture was, at least in theory, chaste and innocuous enough for public. Even if Ani always _did_ make it last just a hair too long.

Ani giggled, and hugged her again, before pulling back just a bit and studying her for a long moment.

“Is something wrong?” Padme asked. “You’re trembling. Are you sure you’re not hurt?” She tried to run her hand along her wife’s ribs surreptitiously, to check for burns or bruises or even _fractures_ her sometimes-idiot, too-reckless beloved might be hiding.

“No, everything’s fine,” Anakin assured her, catching her hands and gently pulling them off. “I mean, I’m not hurt. I just...I...I do need to talk to you, though. It’s important.” She had her serious face on again.

“Of course,” Padme said. _So everything’s_ not _fine._ “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know.” She hesitated for a second, then shook her head. “I just...not here. Can I come over tonight? You’re not too busy, or…?”

“I was hoping you would,” she said. _Though not to_ talk, _exactly. I wonder what’s wrong…?_

Visibly relieved, she flashed another quick smile and dropped one of Padme’s hands, raising the other to kiss it again. “Great. I have a debrief to get through, I don’t know how long it’ll take. I might be pretty late.”

“I’ll wait up,” she promised. “I’ll leave the usual window unlocked for you?”

“ _Padme,_ ” Anakin hissed, her whole posture and body language abruptly shifting, her grip on Padme’s hand tightening almost enough to hurt. “No, _don’t_ leave your windows unlocked, I know how to disable them anyway, and if someone _else--_ ”

Right. Padme sometimes forgot how...almost _paranoid_ Anakin could be, when it came to her safety. If only she’d apply just a hint of that care to herself…

“You’re right,” she said quickly, squeezing her arm in reassurance. “I won’t leave it unlocked. All right?”

“All right,” Anakin said, relaxing again. “I’ll see you tonight, then?”

“See you tonight.”

Anakin bent down to kiss her quickly, properly--and to hell with the cameras, Padme didn’t stop her this time--then headed off.

Padme watched her go, frowning a little. _Something’s different. I wonder what happened out there…?_ Whatever it was, it was something big, something important, something even _Anakin_ wasn’t willing to risk talking about in public.

_She doesn’t seem hurt, or upset,_ Padme told herself. _So it can’t be_ that _bad, right…?_

The hours between now and whenever Ani managed to slip away, hours of waiting to find out what was wrong, were going to be almost as long as the past few months she’d spent alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you guys know--there is some brief discussion of sexual assault in this chapter. No one has been assaulted, and no one will be over the course of this fic, but it does get discussed.

It was late when Anakin finally climbed in through the window; past midnight. Padme was sitting up in bed, going over her notes from a committee meeting from earlier that week, trying not to fall asleep. They were meeting again tomorrow, and she needed to be prepared, but--well, all of the committees she was privileged to sit on were important, of course, but only _some_ of them were actually interesting.

Then, at long last, the window creaked open, and she heard Ani’s boots landing softly on the carpet.

“Shoes off inside,” she called, smiling to herself as she switched off her ‘pad.

“Sorry,” Anakin said, in a stage whisper, hopping on one foot to peel off the first boot.

“Don’t fall over,” Padme said, biting back the urge to giggle at the sight. “And you don’t have to whisper, it’s just us tonight. I sent Elle and Motee home.”

“I am a Jedi,” Anakin said. “I have perfect balance.” Right on cue, she bumped into a table. “Ow. Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing,” Padme said. _On the outside, anyway._ “Need a hand?”

“No.” With one final yank, her second boot came off. She left them in a haphazard pile by the window, along with her cloak, and padded over to the bed. “Hi,” she breathed.

“Hi,” Padme said, then tugged her down for a lingering kiss.

Anakin disengaged reluctantly, and sat down next to her, holding her close. “I missed you. I said that already, didn’t I? I don’t care. I’ll say it again. I love you, and I _missed_ you.”

“I missed you, too,” Padme said, leaning into the embrace and resting her head just where it fit best on Ani’s shoulder. They sat there quietly for a few minutes, just breathing together and drinking in each other’s presence. It had been a long, _long_ time. Not their longest separation since their wedding, but probably in the top five. Though they hadn’t ever really had much time together, of course. Probably, if she tried adding it up, it would be less than a year in total; handfuls of stolen days and secret nights scattered over three years. Not a happy thought.

But her diplomatic work with the Senate, and Ani’s on the front lines, made it so they weren’t actually on Coruscant at the same time all that often; and, when they were, it was usually only for a day, maybe two. When their overlap was longer, they were usually both busy (or Anakin was on medical leave), but at least they could find perfectly reasonable excuses to be in the same room once in a while, even if they couldn’t touch. At least they were near enough to one another, physically, to take advantage of a moment here, an hour there…

She sighed, and curled a little closer, wishing she could just will Anakin on Coruscant with her for longer. “How long do I get to keep you this time?” she asked. She knew how this would go, just like it had all the other times Ani came home--far too soon, there would be a new mission, and her wife would be off getting herself shot at again.

But maybe this time they’d get lucky, and ‘far too soon’ would be another two-week meditative retreat. Padme wasn’t _too_ busy right now, she could maybe steal away...

“I’m not sure,” Anakin said. “They haven’t given me any new orders yet. So...I’m guessing at least two days? I have a couple briefings to go to tomorrow. I’ll probably know more after.”

“Right,” she said. Not what she’d hoped for, but about what she’d expected. After all, while Dooku’s death would probably (hopefully) de-escalate things, Grievous was still active. And Anakin would still be needed at the front for any mop-up operations that went on. Unless the CIS reached out for negotiations again, and things actually went _well_ this time...

That could still take months, though. And the last time Anakin had had an extended leave was--hells, before Ahsoka had left. Over a year ago now. And _Padme_ had been too busy then for the two of them to take much advantage of the time. Not that there was much advantage to take, anyway, since Anakin had only been _given_ the leave because she’d been a hair too close to an explosion and needed to heal.

There wasn’t much they could do about it. There never really had been. They had their duties, and that had to take priority. When the War was over, things would be better.

Assuming, of course, that whatever had been bothering Anakin earlier didn’t cause _new_ problems for the two of them. She’d been trying not to worry about it too much, but it hadn’t really left her thoughts since then. She was pretty sure it wasn’t something _too_ bad, since Ani had always been an open book. If she were _really_ upset, Padme would know. But--well, no woman likes to hear her spouse say ‘We Need To Talk,’ after all.

She sighed, and reluctantly broke the quiet, comfortable moment to ask. “...so, what did you want to talk about this afternoon?”

“Right,” Anakin said, with a sigh of her own, then paused for half a second. “Um. This is sort of...weird.”

“Yeah?” She turned to look up at her. “Bad weird, or…?”

“Good weird?” she said, after a minute’s thought, crinkling her nose a little. “I think, anyway. Um. I’m pregnant.”

It took a few seconds for that to actually sink in.

_...wait, what? But--how…?_

That was--that wasn’t _possible._ Last she’d checked, the two of them were missing a few key pieces of anatomy that were necessary to make that happen, so unless Anakin had--

 _No, she wouldn’t. I mean, I know_ everyone _says that, but Anakin_ really _wouldn’t. I’ve seen how people--of most genders and multiple species--throw themselves at the Hero With No Fear, and Ani barely even_ notices. _No, she wouldn’t ever sleep with someone else, not unless--_

Something deep inside Padme went icy cold.

“...Padme…?” Anakin asked, a little tentatively.

“Who hurt you?” she said. It came out a lot sharper than she’d planned and--yeah, that probably wasn’t the best place to start, but-- _hells,_ she was just so _angry_ right now.

“What?”

“Who hurt you?” she repeated, trying to soften her tone a little. “It’s okay, Ani, you can tell me. We’ll figure this out, I’ll help you, I’ll take care of whoever it was, but I need to know, please?”

“I...um, that’s not what--Padme, no one...hurt me,” Anakin said. “And I didn’t...I’ve never...I’ve never had sex with _anyone_ else, I promise. Willingly or...or otherwise. I can’t...I can’t _explain_ this.”

“So...so what you’re saying is…” It was...Ani had said it was ‘weird.’ Ani had apparently, somewhere in the last few months, learned how to deliver a _massive_ understatement.

“I just…” She ran a hand through her hair. “I’m pregnant, and I don’t...I don’t know how it _happened._ ”

Padme’s mind whirled again. She knew Anakin was telling the truth, or at least what she _thought_ was the truth. Anakin kept secrets sometimes (not so many from _her,_ other than the obvious military and tactical details that she wasn’t on the right committees to access; but still some), but she never lied outright. Not about anything important. Not to Padme.

“You believe me, right?” The question was soft, plaintive. Anakin wasn’t looking at her. “I-I need...I _need_ you to believe me.”

“Of course I do,” Padme said. “I just...I’m trying to wrap my head around this...this whole thing.”

Anakin relaxed next to her. “Okay. Okay, that’s okay then. Um. Yeah, it’s sort of…it took me a couple weeks to really...I mean, part of me _still_ can’t quite believe it, but…”

“Yeah,” she said. “When...when did you find out?”

“A few weeks ago,” she said. “I...well, I’d been feeling sort of weird for a while, and...you know, out on the front, the days sort of blur together sometimes, and I’d lost track?” She shook her head. “But then I realized--it had been a couple months, so I meditated for a while and I figured out I was pregnant. I mean, it didn’t seem _real_ at first, but...” Anakin huffed a little, not quite a laugh. “You know, they sell these little kits, places? You find the right one for your species, prick your finger, and it can confirm a pregnancy for you in like five minutes.” She paused. “Sneaking past Obi-Wan and my men to get one and try it out was fun.”

She did, in fact, know about those kits--there had been one near miss with Rush Clovis, when she had been young and stupid, before Anakin had come back into her life. How she’d felt about it--not necessarily pregnancy in general, but that specific one--before the test had blessedly turned out negative had been a big part of what convinced her to finally leave him. _Best not to bring that up._ “How far along are you?”

“Uh, three, four months, I think? If I’m counting right,” she said.

 _So, around when you left. If this baby had been conceived, and not--whatever is actually going on here…_ Padme couldn’t deny the warm spark of feeling that thought inspired. _I know the baby isn’t_ technically _mine, not in the biological sense, but…I feel like it is, anyway._ “And you’re doing okay? How are you feeling?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Anakin kissed the top of her head lightly. “I haven’t been sick all that much, which has been a relief.”

Yeah, Padme could just imagine what morning sickness on the front lines might have meant. She wished she couldn’t. Come to think of it, she wished Anakin wasn’t on the front lines at _all,_ especially now that she was pregnant.

 _At least she has people looking after her there,_ she tried convincing herself. _Since she’s not all that great at looking after herself._ “And what does your medic say?”

“Kix? I haven’t talked to him for a while.” Anakin grinned. “Not about myself, anyway. Dumb droids have been missing me even more than usual lately. Which is a good thing, because--”

“Wait,” Padme said, sitting up straight and pulling back a little to look Anakin properly in the face. “You’re telling me you haven’t had any prenatal care at all?”

Anakin stared at her for a minute. “Well--I mean, no, I--do you _want_ me to get caught?”

“ _Anakin._ ”

She flushed and looked away. “I know, I know, it’s gonna happen soon, whether I want it to or not, I just…”

Padme counted to ten in her head, and then sighed. “I know. I know, love, but you have to take _care_ of yourself, and the baby. Look, I can get a medical droid to check you out, we can wipe its memory later.” She would hardly be the first Senator to need discreet medical attention. Though, to be fair, she _might_ be the first who needed it for her secret pregnant Jedi wife.

Ani considered for a minute, chewing at her lower lip.

“Please, Ani? Humor me?”

“All right,” she said. “Because you asked.”

Mollified, somewhat, Padme sat back again. “Does anyone else know?” she asked. “Obi-Wan, or…?”

She shook her head. “You’re the only person I’ve told. I wanted you to be the first to know, and I had to tell you in person, so…”

 _So, clearly Ani considers the baby mine, too._ It was almost enough to make Padme forget her original question. “Okay, then,” she said.

Anakin smiled a little at her, and kissed her briefly. “Anyway, I’m pretty sure if anyone _else_ had guessed, I would’ve heard about it. Well, I mean, maybe Artoo figured it out. Half the time, even _I_ can’t tell how much that little droid knows.”

“I think we can trust him,” she said dryly. _We’d_ better _be able to; he was at our wedding._ “You should tell Obi-Wan, though.”

“I can’t.”

“Ani--”

“I _can’t,_ Padme. Please, don’t ask me to do that. I don’t want…” She shifted uncomfortably, looking down at her hands, which were now clenched tight in the blankets. “Just, please?”

“It’s better for him to find out because you told him than because you couldn’t hide it anymore,” she pointed out. “Or, worse, because someone _else_ told him. He’s your _friend,_ Ani. He’ll want to help you. Help us.”

“Maybe,” Anakin said, after a moment’s thought. She didn’t sound all that convinced.

She sighed, and backed off a little. “Just...think about it, please?”

“I will,” she promised.

“All right,” Padme said. She’d accept that, for now. She had some time, at least, to talk Anakin around before exposure became inevitable. “What are you going to do, when…?”

“I’m not sure,” Anakin admitted. She flushed a little. “Honestly, I hadn’t really thought that far past telling you, and hoping the War ends before I’m showing too much because I _can’t_ leave until it’s over.”

Right, that had always been their plan. Wait out the War, then Anakin would quietly resign from the Order. They’d delay a few more months, to minimize the scandal and the damage to Padme’s political career, then have a second, public wedding ceremony.

The pregnancy...complicated things.

“Maybe you could go back to Varykino,” Padme said. “I could join you there. There’s a room we could set up as a nursery, overlooking the lake.”

“That does sound wonderful,” Anakin said, a little wistfully. “I just need an excuse to disappear for a while…”

“We’ll figure it out,” she promised, kissing her cheek. “And we’ll be together. You and me, and the baby. Whatever else happens, we’ll be together. We’ll be a family.”

“Thank you,” she said, leaning her head on Padme’s and snuggling closer. “I just...thank you. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she said, then tentatively rested a hand on Ani’s stomach--still mostly flat, as far as she could tell. “We’re having a baby,” she said, the wonder of it finally pushing aside all the reasons she had to be worried. _I’m going to be a mom,_ she thought. _Ani and I are--we’re going to be_ parents. _We’re having a_ baby.

“We’re having a baby,” Anakin agreed, and Padme could hear the smile in her voice.

And, just then, despite the strangeness of it all, with the fallout still weeks away on the horizon, it was _wonderful_ news.

Tomorrow, she would worry about it more. She’d get her hands on a droid to make sure Ani and the baby really _were_ okay, medically, and start getting things set up at Varykino, and try to lay some groundwork to help them weather the scandal when it finally broke.

But tonight--tonight, Padme let herself sink into the moment--into what was, quite possibly, the happiest moment of her life.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as a note--I'm making a couple timeline assumptions here, mostly because the internal timeline of ROTS is...um...it could plausibly be anywhere from two weeks to four months in canon. I'm choosing to estimate it on the longer end of the spectrum, mostly because that helps me ruin Palpatine's day and I do so love doing that.

It had taken several hours, but Darth Sidious had finally extricated himself from the bevy of reporters, Senators, and other useless hangers-on. He retreated someplace dark and quiet where he could review the results of the day’s work and consider his next move.

He was, he realized, not entirely pleased with what he had observed that morning on the _Invisible Hand._ Not the events themselves; Anakin had performed _brilliantly,_ apart from that little hiccup after the duel when she had refused to leave Kenobi behind. But she had been in top form otherwise, even managing to defeat Tyranus without killing him legitimately, in the midst of active combat.

(Sidious could have worked with that, of course--he had known it was a possibility when arranging all of this, and had thusly developed an adequate contingency plan--but goading her into outright murder gained him _so_ much more.)

No, his irritation was not with the girl’s performance but, rather, with her... _situation._

It had taken him some time to fully analyze the little changes he’d noticed. He’d spent most of his tedious afternoon devoting one corner of his mind to putting the puzzle together. And, once he had the leisure to examine said analysis consciously, everything added up to one rather unlikely--and _incredibly_ inconvenient--fact:

Anakin Skywalker was pregnant.

Not _very_ pregnant, of course; early enough that he doubted anyone else had noticed yet. Especially since the girl had somehow found a way to conceal the fetus’s Force signature. Certainly Kenobi didn’t know, or he would have ‘subtly’ objected to some of the more reckless maneuvers Anakin had pulled that morning.

He growled a little under his breath. This was _not_ something he had prepared for, and the fact that he had made so grave a miscalculation, after over a _decade_ spent learning exactly how Anakin Skywalker’s mind worked, infuriated him. He had been entirely certain she was involved with Senator Amidala, to the point where he had reason to believe they’d actually gotten _married._ And, as intensely, sickeningly devoted as the two of them appeared to be to one another (and _oh,_ how easy it was to twist that in on itself!), some things simply were not physically possible.

 _Although,_ he amended his thoughts, considering the utterly indiscreet reunion he’d witnessed between the two, _Anakin sleeping with Amidala doesn’t necessarily preclude her_ also _sleeping with someone else._

Though, given the intensity of her passions, the fact that Anakin had managed to conceal a _second_ love affair stretched credulity. On the other hand, while she certainly had the raw power, Anakin lacked the knowledge and skill necessary to manipulate the Force to impregnate herself. Assuming she wanted to. Assuming it had even occurred to her that such a thing was _possible._ Sidious found both of those assumptions even more implausible. Ergo, unlikely as it was, she must have a male lover as well.

 _Kenobi,_ he decided. It could explain her insistence on dragging the Jedi along that morning, despite the clear risk that presented to her other objectives. Besides, the only other genetically compatible men with whom she spent any significant time alone were himself-- _ha_ \--and the clone troopers under her command. She _could_ have seduced one of them--she was irritatingly fond of CT-7567, for one. But that would have been much more difficult to conceal than an extracurricular interest in her former master. Besides, the clones were her subordinates, and she might have an _ethical_ objection to the seduction; one that would be unlikely to enter her mind when approaching a sexual relationship from the opposite direction.

 _And yet she hasn’t informed Kenobi of the pregnancy. She already knows herself; I doubt she could have built that shield around the fetus unconsciously. The structure is too regular._ Possibly, their encounter had been brief; a heated moment that got out of hand after a particularly narrow victory. Such things were not uncommon, after all. And it would be something deeply regretted--at least on Kenobi’s part, possibly on Anakin’s as well, given her involvement with Amidala. True, he hadn’t noticed that type of strain between the two Jedi, but it _would_ explain why he hadn’t seen the affair coming.

Sidious considered that possibility for a moment. _Yes, I can work with that. Play on her worry that he’ll abandon her, or on her fear of ruining his life._ The two options were not _entirely_ incompatible, of course. Plant the suggestion that Kenobi would desert her when confronted with unavoidable proof of their violation, and then die without her to watch his back, before she could earn his forgiveness; add in the certainty that, whatever else he did or did not do, he would not prevent the Jedi Order from removing the child from her custody--yes, that would do quite nicely. And had the additional benefit of driving yet another spike through her allegiance the Council, and the Order as a whole.

Of course, that was hardly Sidious’ only problem with the pregnancy and all it represented. As unfortunate as his misinterpretation of Anakin’s mental and emotional landscape had been, far more deleterious was the sudden need to escalate his plans, and move up the schedule.

His plan had been to ensure Anakin was pulled from the front and assigned to Coruscant for the foreseeable future. He had expected to have a fairly reasonable timeframe--he’d estimated three to four months--to shred what loyalty she retained to the Jedi, drive her into a frenzy of fear for her wife, and give her that final nudge over the edge. All without dragging on too long with regard to Grievous and the remaining mop-up operations of the War.

But now, human pregnancies being what they were, he likely had no more than half that time. Her Fall, the end of the War, the destruction of the Order--it all had to happen in very quick succession. And, if _possible,_ he wanted Anakin’s reputation relatively intact when he established his Empire. She would be a much more useful asset under those circumstances. Though that was a lesser problem; he could manage without his golden general, the Hero With No Fear (ha), to ease the transition.

No, the _real_ concern was that, if the Jedi discovered her pregnancy and expelled her before she was ready to kneel before him, she would not be in a position to act as Sidious needed her to act. And, fools though they were, there would come a time when even the idiots on the Council would know, and they _would_ expel her. Likely Kenobi, too; and the last thing Sidious wanted was Anakin dragging _him_ around behind her, as she had that morning.

Besides all of that, there would come a point where she would, if only temporarily, be physically incapacitated. Even if she managed to salvage her position and public persona when the truth came out, she could hardly prevent _that._ And her confinement would likely mean at _least_ an additional six-month delay; longer if there were any complications with the delivery. Now that Tyranus was dead, Sidious doubted he would be able to maintain the status quo with Grievous and the Senate for that long.

He toyed with the idea of arranging a convenient miscarriage. That would solve the timing problems, at least. And it would hardly be difficult; summon her to his office for one of their usual chats, listen to her blather on regarding things he cared nothing about for an hour or so, insert a comment here, plant a seed there...and discreetly poison her. A brief touch on her shoulder while wearing a ring with a needle, or simply offering her a suitably doctored drink. She would never suspect.

But--no. She would mourn, possibly fall into despair, and that would, at minimum, cause him further delays in securing her allegiance. He needed her damaged, not utterly broken. Besides, her potential devastation at the loss would also be a crack that either he _or_ the Jedi could use to manipulate her. And there was the chance, however slim, that _someone_ in that tower of fools would know what to do with her grief, and cost him his apprentice entirely.

So, he would allow the pregnancy to progress naturally. He would need to decide what to do about the brat when it was born, of course, but that particular problem could be solved at leisure. Anakin _would_ be his apprentice by then, after all. And he doubted mere maternal devotion could overpower the Dark Side. Perhaps he would kill it then; perhaps he would allow her to keep it--under careful supervision, of course--as he had allowed Tyranus his pet assassins.

Or, perhaps, he would take the child to raise himself.

In any case, he had time to decide. And he had at least preliminary plans to resolve the rest of the issues raised by this unfortunate setback. If things were no longer going entirely as he’d expected, well. He had handled such diversions before.

His victory was within reach. Nothing--not even Anakin Skywalker’s child--could stop him now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to update! This chapter gave me a lot of trouble...
> 
> Also, as a note, there is some...fairly graphic bloody hallucinating/nightmaring that happens in this chapter. The nightmare also deals with kidnapping.

_It hurts._

Everything _hurts._

_A child is crying, far away, fading._

_A cool blue light envelops the source, drawing it away from her._

_She tries to call after them, but no sound comes; the words are strangled by her tongue._

_They’re gone. She’s alone._

_She’s_ alone _. Obi-Wan is_ gone _, Padme is_ not here _and someone has_ taken _\--_

 _Her thighs are slick with blood, her strength is fading with it; she is empty and hollow and_ alone.

 

Anakin came awake all at once, her heart pounding in her throat.

 _Just a dream. Just a nightmare, I’ve had nightmares as long as I can remember, it doesn’t--it doesn’t_ have _to mean anything._

This one had felt so _real_  though. She could still feel the blood, running in hot, wet trails down her legs, still _smell_ it, clearly enough that she surreptitiously reached to check and make sure it wasn’t there.

And she could still hear the child-- _my child, my baby_ \--crying.

She took a deep, shaky breath and reached for calm. _There is no emotion, there is peace._

Yeah. That had never helped her much before, and it sure as hell wasn’t doing any good _now_.

Anakin glanced over at Padme--still asleep. _Good. Least I didn’t thrash around too much, wake her up._  She slid over to the edge of the bed and got up, grabbing her tunic on the way to the balcony.

_Just a dream. It was just a dream, just a nightmare._

If she kept repeating it to herself, maybe she’d eventually believe it.

“Ani?”

She jumped a little. She hadn’t sensed Padme approaching; she’d been too deeply focused inward. _I can’t do that again. Anywhere else, doing that would get me killed. And I’ll be back in the field soon. Need to stay sharp._  True, she was safe enough here in Padme’s apartment--except people kept trying to _kill_  Padme, with distressing regularity, and--

 _Focus._  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said, trying for a smile. She hoped it came across less unsteady than she felt.

“Is everything okay?” Padme, not fooled for an instant, joined her out on the balcony.

She cast about for a distraction--anything to avoid actually talking about what had brought her out here--and her eye caught the japor pendant Padme still wore. “I remember making this for you.”

“Ani…”

 _So much for that._  She sighed and looked away, but dropped the pretense. “Just...it was a dream.”

“Bad?”

“Yeah.”

She nodded, and rested a hand on her arm, soft and comforting. “Want to talk about it?”

“It was just a _dream_ , Padme.” She realized how that sounded, and took a deep breath to calm herself down. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.”

“I know you didn’t.” Padme hugged her briefly. “Come back to bed, love,” she said. “Please? We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, just…”

“I’m fine,” Anakin insisted, but it sounded hollow, even to her.

 _She is empty and hollow and_ alone.

She shivered a little and pulled away, taking the last few steps to stand at the balcony railing, looking out at the still-smoking city. “I just...it was just a bad dream, that’s all.”

“Okay,” she said quietly.

“I’m sorry.” She focused on the traffic buzzing around them, trying to lose herself and toss her fear out into it. Sometimes that sort of thing worked better for her than traditional meditation.

Not tonight, though. _Kriffing hell._

“It’s okay,” Padme said. “This...this dream you had, was it like…?”

Anakin shied away from those memories as best she could and just nodded, unable to put it into words.

For a long moment, Padme didn’t say anything, then she came to join Anakin at the railing, resting her hand lightly on hers. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

 _I don’t want to talk about it,_  she wanted to say. _I don’t want you to worry._

But this was _Padme_. Padme, who had _understood_ , as much as someone without the Force could, when she’d started dreaming about...dreaming about Mom. Padme, who had done everything she could to help.

On the other hand, saying it out loud would make it that much more real.

On the _other_  other hand, ignoring the problem wouldn’t make it go away. And once it _was_ real, she could fix it. She was _good_ at fixing things. She just had to figure out exactly where the problem was.

Padme could help with that. Maybe. _Worth a try_.

“I think...” She gripped the balcony railing tight. “I think...I think something’s going to happen. Something…bad. I think...someone...I think someone’s going to try and...try and take the baby.”

Behind her, she heard Padme suck in a breath.

“I won’t _let_  them,” she went on, with conviction. She wasn’t sure _how_  yet, exactly, but she knew that much. “I’ll do--I’ll do whatever I have to, to protect my child. _Our_  child.”

“I know you will,” Padme said, twining their fingers together. “Just...try to remember: no one can take the baby from you without your consent.”

“I know that,” she said, just shy of snapping. She wasn’t stupid, she knew how it worked.

 _Or how it’s_ supposed _to work, anyway._

But so many things had _stopped_  working the way they were supposed to lately, that she couldn’t--she couldn’t be sure.

Besides, that was how it worked for _ordinary_ women, not--

_A cool blue light envelops the sound, drawing it away from her._

She closed her eyes. _No one is going to take my child._

Padme leaned into her a little. “It’s not necessarily a bad thing, that you’re...worried about this,” she said quietly. “A lot of things in our lives are going to change now. Some of it--most of it, I hope--will be for the better. And the parts that aren’t...I’m here, love. You know that, right?”

The implication being that this was just a nightmare, not a vision; that Anakin’s anxieties about how her entire life had been upended were translating into the worst case scenario. Which was plausible enough, but…

_I wish I could believe that._

“I know,” Anakin said, trying to relax and kissing the top of Padme’s head softly. “Our baby is a blessing. That’s what matters most.”

“Yes,” she said. “We’ll get through this. And if _anyone_  tries to take him away from you, they’ll answer to _me_.”

She couldn’t help but smile at that. _And_ _people think_ I’m _the belligerent one. They haven’t seen Padme with her back against the wall._ “Thank you,” she said, then sighed. “Can we...I don’t want to talk about this any more right now, okay? I’ll...I’ll be all right. Let’s go back to bed. We’ve got a few hours before I have to head back to the Temple, we can…” She trailed off.

Padme was quiet for a minute, and Anakin could tell she wasn’t entirely satisfied but, thankfully, she let it drop. “Come on,” she said, tugging her arm a little. “It’s cold out here.”

“It’s always cold here,” Anakin muttered, though she hadn’t really noticed until Padme brought it up. Not beyond the dread that kriffing _dream_  had inspired.

“And that’s why I have like twelve blankets,” she said, kissing her cheek.

“I love you,” Anakin said.

“But only for my blankets?” Her eyes were sparkling a little.

“No, of _course_  not,” she said. “I just--I meant…” She paused, then smiled a little, her shoulders unknotting. “You’re teasing me.” It was refreshingly _normal_ , an anchor pulling her the rest of the way out of the nightmare.

“I got you to smile, didn’t I?” Padme said. She leaned up to kiss her again.

Anakin kissed her back, lingering, running her fingers along the japor pendant’s chain. _It will bring you good fortune._  She had a feeling they both needed that more than ever, these days. “I love you,” she said again.

“I love you, too.” She pulled her back into the apartment proper, off the balcony. “Come back to bed. You should get some more rest.”

“Mmm.” She didn’t think _that_  was likely, but just being close to Padme for a few more hours, not thinking about the war or the stupid dream, would be nice.

Padme eyed her for a long moment. “Will you at least try? Part of protecting the baby is taking care of yourself, you know.”

Anakin blinked. “I’m not--”

She raised an eyebrow.

She sighed. “You’re going to be like this until she’s born, aren’t you.”

“Well, if I could trust you to do it on your own…”

Anakin rolled her eyes. “Yes, dear.” She hugged her one more time, then followed Padme back into the bedroom. She curled up next to her wife again, breathing in the soft, sweet scent of her hair and finding a kind of peace in it.

She must have been more tired than she thought, because it didn’t take her long at all to start drifting off again.

At least until--

_A child is crying, far away, fading._

Her eyes snapped open, but she stayed where she was, and breathed. Just breathed, until her heart stopped racing.

She drew on the Force, letting it melt away her weariness. She could sustain herself that way, for a while. Long enough to fix this.

 _I_ will _fix this,_  she promised herself, and her child. _I will find a way._

 _Then_ , maybe, she could sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

As usual, Obi-Wan sensed Anakin’s approach long before he heard or saw her--she had been somewhat better, the last few weeks, about muting her presence. To the point where one might almost call her  _ circumspect. _

_ Well, for her, anyway, _ he thought, with faint amusement, as he heard her quick steps in the hallway and then the door slid open to admit her.

“You’ve missed the report on the Outer Rim sieges,” he said mildly. It wasn’t exactly a rebuke--she  _ should _ have been there, yes, she didn’t really need to hear it in person. Especially given the message from the Chancellor, received just before the briefing was to start.

The request to meet with Anakin disquieted him, even more than usual. Especially since it had come directly to the quarters they shared--she’d moved back in after Ahsoka left; he had let her, despite his better judgment, knowing she probably didn’t want to be alone. No one had really questioned it, at least. Not yet, anyway.

Still, that aside, Palpatine sending a message to Anakin  _ directly _ , bypassing the Council entirely...it bothered Obi-Wan. Not, despite what Anakin might think of him, because he was overly fixated on the correct way to do things, but because this breach, in particular, was an alarming overreach. Particularly given certain motions that were on the floor in the Senate today.

_ At least, now that Dooku is dead, the War is almost over, _ he thought.  _ Hopefully, things will go back to normal then. _

“I’m sorry,” Anakin said, cutting into his thoughts.

He paused a little, halfway through deactivating his display. She sounded--not distressed, exactly, but something was definitely off.

“I was held up,” she went on. He could practically hear her wincing at how weak that sounded. “I have no excuse.”

He let it pass for now. “In short, they’re going well. Saleucami has fallen, and Master Vos has moved his troops…” He turned and trailed off.

_ Something is  _ definitely  _ not right here. _ Being back in the Temple, away from the front, had refreshed him. As it always did. As it  _ usually _ did Anakin, at least until she had to report to the Council. Or got bored.

But he knew damn well the first hadn’t happened yet, and even  _ she _ usually took longer than a day to get this...unsettled.

Then again, it wasn’t that she was agitated, exactly. No more than usual, at least. She just looked... _ drained _ , still. And her shields were up, tighter than usual, which meant she was upset about something and didn’t want him to know. As if he didn’t know her well enough to pick up on it a thousand little ways, even without her broadcasting her anxieties into the Force.

He frowned. “Are you all right?”

“What?” she said. “Uh--yeah, I’m fine. I just...didn’t sleep much last night, that’s all.”

“...ah.” He was fairly certain that wasn’t the entire story, but...well, she  _ did _ seem tired. And, given where she’d likely  _ been _ last night, he decided he didn’t particularly want to know more. There were certain things that, for a very,  _ very _ long list of reasons, he chose not to think about.

“You were saying?” she prompted. “About Master Vos?”

“Right. He’s moved his troops to Boz Pity.” More mop-up campaigns.

It was Anakin’s turn to give him a searching look. “What’s wrong, then?”

_ Don’t argue the point this time, _ he thought, and he wasn’t sure if he was asking himself or his erstwhile apprentice for restraint. Of all the things they argued about--and the list was rather embarrassingly long--Palpatine and his increasing stranglehold on the political process tended to sour things between them the fastest.

_ There is no passion, there is serenity. _

Keeping his voice as neutral as he could, he said, “The Senate is expected to vote more executive powers to the Chancellor today.”

And, as expected, Anakin frowned. “Well, that can only mean less deliberating and more action.  Is that bad? It’ll make it easier for us to end the war.” Her hand twitched a little, but she stopped herself halfway through whatever gesture she’d been about to make, sliding both hands into her sleeves instead.

“Perhaps,” he said, and sighed internally. It was the same argument, the one she trotted out time and again; the one that was the justification on the Senate floor every time these measures came to a vote.  _ If Palpatine’s overreach could have ended the war sooner, why hasn’t it? We keep giving him more and more, and yet.. _

He didn’t make the point out loud. He didn’t really want the fight, not right now. “But...be careful of your friend Palpatine,” he said instead.

She blinked. “Be careful of what?”

There were a thousand answers Obi-Wan could have given, and had on other occasions, but…

_ Don’t push the point. Not right now. _ He wasn’t sure why that thought felt so important to him just then, but he trusted it. “He has requested your presence,” he said instead.  _ Directly, too.  _ Think _ , Anakin. Follow the thread through to its conclusion. Maybe if you see it for yourself… _

“What for?”

“He didn’t say.”

That seemed to catch her focus a little more. She paused for a moment, then asked, “He didn’t inform the Council?”

Obi-Wan shook his head.

“That’s...unusual, isn’t it?”

_ Yes. Now, consider what it might  _ mean _. _ “All of this is unusual,” he said. “And it’s making me uneasy.”

Anakin was quiet for a few minutes as they left the briefing room, side by side; in step. Just like always, no matter how much they argued. “I’m sure there’s a good reason,” she finally said.

_ Damn. _ “I’m sure,” he said, allowing a little doubt to bleed into his voice.

She shot him a look. “Well, I guess we’ll find out when I head over there. Did he say when?”

“As soon as possible, I’m afraid,” he said.

Anakin sighed. “All right. I’d...probably better get going, then.”

He frowned a little.  _ That _ , too, was unusual. Normally, in situations like this, Anakin was either entirely enthusiastic or entirely petulant. Any other time, he might have been almost grateful for this brand of...mildly annoyed resignation instead. Considered it a sign that she was growing up; that she was finally steadying out a little. But put that together with all the other little things that had seemed  _ off _ about her lately…

“Are you  _ sure _ you’re all right?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes. “ _ Yes, _ Obi-Wan. I’m fine.  _ You’re _ the one who got flung into a wall yesterday.”

Which was a fair point. Still,  _ he’d _ made sure to get cleared, at least, after leaving her at the Senate. It was probably too much to hope that she’d made time to do the same, but he’d see if he could track down Bant and persuade her to give him any information she had. After all, he  _ had _ been unconscious for several minutes. Maybe he’d missed something--Anakin was good at hiding when she was in pain.

“Nice try, but we’re not talking about me,” he pointed out. “Did you get cleared before you left last night?”

“Didn’t need to,” she said. She picked up her pace, locking her shields down even tighter. “Do you have any idea when we might get shipped out again?”

“No,” he said. “Anakin--”

“Maybe the Chancellor will tell me,” she interrupted. “Maybe  _ that’s _ what he wants, even if he’s going about it in the wrong way. I should get over to the Senate. I’ll see you later.”

“ _ Ana _ kin--”

And she turned a corner and was gone, without letting him get another word in. Somehow, Obi-Wan was not surprised.

He sighed.  _ I’ll get her to talk tonight, _ he promised himself. If they were going to be sent out that quickly, he would have heard by now. Barring some kind of emergency, he’d get to the bottom of whatever was bothering her soon enough. He’d let things slip before, back when she’d been having constant nightmares about her mother, and had almost--lost her, then. One way or another. He wasn’t about to repeat that mistake.

So. First, a detour by the Halls of Healing, to try and charm his way into any recent records Anakin had, in case she  _ was _ ill. Then he’d see if he could find out where she’d been all morning, after she’d left…wherever she had been last night. Which he didn’t feel a particularly strong need to confirm, one way or another.

And perhaps Anakin was right. Perhaps things would work out for the best, and he was worrying over nothing.

He didn’t think so, but it was a pleasant thought. Until he knew for certain, all he could do was take things one step at a time, solve the problems he could, and hope for the best.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure: I know exactly zero things about racing cars, let alone speeders. Please indulge my ignorance.

_I’m depending on you, to be the eyes, ears, and voice of the Republic._

It was almost surreal.

Six months ago, Anakin would have given just about _anything_ to be put on the Council. Even through a back door like the one the Chancellor had opened for her. Well, all right, not _anything_ \--not, for instance, Padme or Obi-Wan, but just about anything _else,_ up to and including her remaining hand.

It wasn’t because the actual _position_ appealed to her--it actually seemed sort of boring--but because the acknowledgement would have been nice. Just to be recognized for her power and skill. To be treated like the valuable asset to the Order and the Republic that she was, instead of some sort of...some sort of ticking time bomb that no one (except Obi-Wan, most of the time) trusted.

But now, everything had _changed._ And being put on the Council meant she’d have to spend a lot more time in a lot closer communication with them than she had in the past. She probably wouldn’t be able to avoid it even after she got sent back out to the front.

(She _would_ get sent back out to the front--she _had_ to be, that was where she was _good,_ and other Councillors were sent out all the time, right?)

And _that,_ that increased closeness, that increased _observation,_ made it significantly likelier that the Council would find out about her baby before she was ready. Before she’d figured out how to _protect_ her.

Anakin had, in the space of a single conversation with the Chancellor, _completely_ lost whatever control she’d had of the situation. She was being pushed into a corner, she could _feel_ the walls being built up around her, and she couldn’t do a karking _thing_ to stop it. She needed more information, so she knew _exactly_ how much danger her child was in. She needed _time_ , to figure out how to explain what had happened and what to _do._ She needed--she needed--

She needed a _race._

As soon as she thought of it, she knew it was exactly the right thing to do. She shifted gears and dropped her speeder down towards the nearest access point to the underlevels. Racing would calm her down, help her feel back in control of things, if only for a moment; give her breathing room and maybe some perspective on her problems. It always had.

Matter of fact, just making the decision to _find_ a street race had already helped.

 _Okay. Take a breath._ Think. _You’re getting ahead of yourself. Again. The Council probably won’t listen to him, anyway,_ she realized; and, for once, it was a _good_ thing that they and the Chancellor were increasingly at odds.

Which was an incredibly selfish, petty thought and _completely_ beneath her, but she couldn’t help it.

_And even if they do…_

She swallowed down the panic that threatened to rise up again and mulled that over for a minute as she descended another half-dozen levels.

 _If I’m on the Council, I’ll be a Master. And once I’m a Master, I’ll have_ access _to all those files I couldn’t read this morning._

She’d spent half the day holed up in the Archives--that’s where she’d been that morning, when she was supposed to be at Obi-Wan’s briefing. She’d completely lost track of time, trying to find any sort of precedent for her situation. The only one she’d known about going in was Master Mundi, and his circumstances were completely different. And all she’d found had been a few references to Grandmaster Satele Shan, who had supposedly had a son more than three thousand years ago, but not a lot of detail about _either_ of them, or at least on that particular part of her life.

That, and a few dozen locked files, that needed authorization codes she didn’t have. And, yes, she probably could have sliced her way in _eventually,_ but that risked getting caught. So did asking Master Nu, or anyone else, for help finding what she needed.

And getting caught meant explaining _why_ she was interested in Jedi with children, and that was _not_ how she wanted to do this.

Not that she’d figured out exactly _how_ she wanted to do this, but still. Not the point.

The point _was_ , if, against all logic and probability, the Council bowed to the Chancellor’s wishes and put her on the Council, Anakin would be a Master. She wouldn’t _have_ to slice or sweet-talk her way into restricted files, and by the time anyone bothered to check what she was researching, she’d probably already have her solution.

 _So it wouldn’t necessarily be a_ total _disaster,_ she reassured herself. _It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. I just have to--stay calm, stay focused. Find a race. Clear my head. Then take it from there._

One of her old favorites started not too far from here, and it was the right day of the week. It had been _ages_ since she’d been able to participate, but she still knew the course like the back of her hand. They may or may not remember _her,_ but as long as she had a speeder and a hundred credits for the entry fee, she should be--

Her comlink chirped at her.

“Kriffing--what _now?_ ”

She hesitated for half a second. That particular chirping pattern meant Obi-Wan, which meant the call could be something important. It could even be new orders sending her out into the field again. Plus, if she picked up, she _might_ be able to get his thoughts on how the Council was treating the Chancellor’s request.

On the _other_ hand, it was probably likelier he’d refuse to answer any questions she had on the subject, and try to pry answers out of _her,_ the way he had been this morning.

Padme’s voice echoed in her head. _It’s better for him to find out because you told him than because you couldn’t hide it anymore._

Which was probably true, except…

_I can’t. I can’t tell him. I’m not--ready for that conversation._

Not ready for him to be…

She didn’t want to think about it. About how he’d react. Not right now.

 _Sorry, Master,_ she thought, with a faint twinge of guilt. _It’s not a good time._

She ignored the comlink and sped the last few blocks to the race, arriving just in time to get herself signed up. She probably wouldn’t _win_ \--she was _way_ too out of practice with this kind of speed and maneuvering in atmosphere--but--

 _This_ , at least, was something she could handle. Just her and her speeder, up against the course and the buildings and a half-dozen other drivers.

And everything was going well--she was really starting to relax into it and even have some _fun,_ when, halfway through the second lap, her comlink beeped _again._

Only this time, it wasn’t Obi-Wan.

It was Padme.

 _...oh, kriffing_ hell _the stupid_ med droid _I forgot--_

Padme was _not_ going to be happy with her.

She picked up the call. “Hi.”

“Ani,” Padme sounded more relieved than annoyed, at least for the moment. “Where _are_ you?”

“I’m--um.” She dodged around one of the other drivers, sliding into second place. “Sorry, I got...I had a meeting with the Chancellor. I got tied up.”

“It’s all right,” she said. “You’re on your way?”

“Uhhh…” She dropped a couple meters, letting the idiot in third shoot past her. She’d gotten a good look at his setup when she’d passed him before; he’d _never_ clear the next turn at that speed. As long as she managed to avoid any debris if he actually crashed--

“Ani?”

“Right. Um. Soon? I promise.” At least she wasn’t holding up a practicing doctor with _real_ patients who actually _needed_ help.

And, just as she’d suspected, Third Place Sleemo spun out of control on the hairpin and she slipped past easily, her speeder riding up on its side, repulsors skimming the building windows; close enough to make them hum with the vibrations as she shot around the turn.

 _Perfect. I’m still karking_ good _at this._ She was grinning wildly; she could feel it. _Oh, hells, I kriffing_ needed _this._

“Anakin,” Padme said. “Anakin, are you _racing_ right now?”

Oh. Right.

“Um. Maybe?”

She could practically hear Padme counting to ten in her head.

She winced a little, leaning into another turn, and started to formulate an apology, when _\--oh, poodoo._

With the _worst possible timing_ outside of an actual firefight, she was starting to get nauseous. She hadn’t had much of a problem with that in her starfighter, in _combat,_ but with atmosphere and wind resistance and _gravity_ thrown into the mix…

_This was maybe not my best idea ever._

She swallowed. “I’ll...uh, I’ll drop out on the next turn. And I’ll be there soon. Okay?”

“Okay,” Padme said. “We’re not done discussing this.”

“I know.” She dropped a few meters, willing her rebellious stomach to calm down. “Twenty minutes, okay? Half hour on the outside. I promise.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

“I love you.”

Padme _sighed._ “I love you, too. Just--I wish you’d stop being so--nevermind. I’ll see you soon."And then she hung up, without letting Anakin get the last word in.

“Ugh.” She shifted gears again and slipped off the course on the next turn, and pressed her forehead into the steering column, listening the other racers shoot past her and waiting for the nausea to pass. It usually did after a few minutes, but it hadn’t ever snuck up on her this _suddenly_ before.

Worse than the nausea, though, was that, with the thrill of the race fading, all of the stress that had sent her down here in the first place was creeping back up and--

_A child is crying, far away, fading._

She shook her head angrily, shoving the vision away. _I get it, I_ get _it, danger is coming, my baby is in danger, they are going to take her from me, I don’t need to keep_ seeing _it_ every time _I close my kriffing eyes._

The Force didn’t seem to agree with her.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Calm. She was calm. Totally, completely, calm.

_One step at a time. Get to Padme’s apartment, make her happy again, let the droid poke me or whatever. Then…_

Back to the Archives, maybe. She might have more luck coming back with fresh eyes. She’d figure _something_ out.

She started the speeder up again and eased it around the building and back into normal traffic, spiraling back up towards the surface and all the problems it contained.


	7. Chapter 7

Padme did not throw her comlink across the room. Instead, she very gently and decorously set it down on the kaf table.

Then she picked up a pillow, buried her face in it, and screamed.

“Feel better?” Elle asked, poking her head in from the security station. The pillow must not have muffled that as much as she thought.

“No,” Padme muttered resentfully, still into the pillow, then paused and grudgingly admitted, “Kind of.”

“Well,” Elle said philosophically, “at least you know she’s just being an idiot again, not…?”

Which, of course, had Padme imagining all sorts of worst-case scenarios again--Ani crashing when she tried to drop out of the race, to start.

She looked up and glared at her handmaiden. “Not helping,” she said, just shy of snapping.

“Sorry,” Elle said, with a half-bow. “I more meant, at least you know she’s _okay.”_

“Yeah,” Padme said, and sighed, putting the pillow back where it belonged and smoothing it down unnecessarily. “And she’s on her way here now. That’s something.”

“Okay.”

“She was _racing.”_

Elle gave her a look, as if to say, “And this surprises you?” But out loud, she just repeated, “Okay.”

Padme picked up the pillow again and threw it in her general direction. She ducked under it, and it bounced harmlessly off the wall.

Elle grinned at her, and was clearly about to retaliate when the comm in Padme’s study went off.

They both glanced over at it, and Padme sighed. If someone was calling her this late, it was probably something she actually needed to deal with.

“I should get that,” she said, standing up and collecting her private comm. “If she gets here before I’m done--”

“We know what to do,” Elle assured her.

“Thanks,” Padme said.

They had never _talked_ about it, of course, but she knew her handmaidens knew...well, not everything. She was pretty sure they didn’t know about the wedding, and of course she hadn’t told them about the pregnancy yet. But they knew Anakin snuck in at all hours, stayed the night here more often than at the Temple when she was on Coruscant, and they weren’t stupid.

Some things, though, were better left unsaid.

She stepped into her office and shut the door behind her, pressing the button to accept the call. A twelve-centimeter, waist-up hologram of Senator Organa materialized.

_This can’t be good._

“Good evening,” she said.

“Padme,” Bail said. “I’m sorry to call you so late, but it’s important.”

“I’m sure it is,” she said, settling down behind her desk. “What’s going on?”

“I’ve received word that the Chancellor is taking steps to put the Order under his direct authority. Cutting out the Senate entirely.”

_Oh._

Later, Padme would be obliquely ashamed of herself for it, but her immediate reaction was a selfish one, entirely focused on the intimate, personal consequences of Palpatine’s actions. Not for her, so much--though, honestly, the more stunts like this the Chancellor pulled, the more difficult things became for her and Queen Apailana--but for _Anakin._

 _They’re going to put her right in the middle of this,_ she realized. _The Council and the Chancellor--she’s the public’s hero, and they both think they have, or_ should _have, first claim on her loyalty...it’s only a question of who asks her to spy first._

Because the Council wouldn’t balk openly. They _couldn’t--_ not with the way public opinion about them had become so ambivalent as the War dragged on. A visible break with the extremely popular Chancellor _(who wouldn’t be_ nearly _so popular if we could prove even_ half _the things we think he’s done behind the scenes)_ would destroy them.

And there was no way to avoid Anakin getting caught between them.

 _She does_ not _need this stress right now._

And then she caught herself. _Focus on the big picture. Finish the call. Worry about Anakin later. Don’t give yourself away._

“I see,” she finally said.

“We’re meeting tomorrow, in my office,” he said. “Senator Mothma, myself, a few other like-minded Senators. Will you be there?”

“Of course,” she said. Because she couldn’t _not_ be there.

He nodded. “I don’t have much beyond that, and a great deal of speculation. Not yet. I’ll keep digging, try to have a little more for everyone tomorrow.”

“I know,” she said. “This is...bad, Bail. For all of us.”

“Yes.” And what else could he say? Palpatine had been pushing the line, inch by inch, ever since the war had started. But _this…_

This went well beyond pushing the limits of his power. With any luck, he had finally overreached himself--maybe, just maybe, even _he_ wouldn’t be able to sell _this_ to the Republic.

Somehow, though, Padme doubted that.

“We’ll see what the others have to say, and then come up with a plan,” she said.

He nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Yes. What time?”

“Immediately after the botanical imports vote.”

Which, as much as it felt like it in that moment, was not _actually_ a stupid issue, Padme knew--there had been devastating consequences to numerous planetary ecosystems without such protections. And too much ordinary Senate business had been left undone over the past three years, with the rationale that the War was more important.

 _But if we lose sight of what we’re fighting_ for, _will we even be a Republic worth protecting?_

Sometimes, Padme wondered.

“All right. I’ll be there. Good night, Bail.”

“Good night,” he said, and leaned forward to switch off his comm.

Padme sighed and leaned back in her chair, kicking her desk idly, and trying to decide how to handle this. Publically, politically--that was one thing, and hard enough. A delicate balance, as it increasingly was--given her position as the Senator for Palpatine’s home planet, her words and actions in such situations carried more weight than maybe they should have. And if anyone but Bail Organa had asked for her support on this, she would have suspected their motives. But she and Bail had been friends for a long time. She knew he would never use her that way.

But she couldn’t make any decisions about _that_ until after the meeting tomorrow.

 _Personally,_ on the other hand…

This had come at the worst possible time for Anakin, with the baby on the way, and Padme felt helpless and more than a little enraged at the next few maneuvers she knew the Council and the Chancellor would--

 _She was meeting with him earlier today. Oh, hells, it’s already_ started.

Suddenly, Padme was a little more sympathetic with Anakin’s need to race today.

_What are my choices here?_

Well, she could do what she knew was right--urge her wife to back the Council, who she was still at least _mostly_ sure were well-intentioned. Urge Anakin to take a stand to safeguard the democracy she had spent three years fighting to defend. Urge her to oppose Palpatine’s increasingly alarming power-grabs, his increasing--

 _When,_ Padme asked herself, _did Sheev Palpatine become my enemy?_ He had been her advisor, her mentor, her _friend,_ and now…

_He’s also been all that to Anakin._

And, other than Rush Clovis, the one thing she and Anakin had ever _seriously_ argued about since their wedding was Palpatine. Anakin remained stubbornly, almost willfully blind to the man’s maneuvers. Maybe, if they were lucky, this would finally get her to see sense on the subject. But if Padme pushed the point now, especially with the Council already leaning hard on her, she would only drive Anakin deeper into herself. Or worse, closer to Palpatine.

She couldn’t risk that.

So, plan B. She could say nothing, as frustrating as she knew it would be. She could hold her tongue, and be someone Anakin could vent to without fear of judgment. She could be the one person who wasn’t asking Anakin to choose between conflicting loyalties. The one person who wasn’t making Anakin’s life _harder._

That, she knew, would be the best way to help Anakin and her child--to _protect_ them. The question was, could she balance doing that _and_ what she needed to do politically?

This would be so much easier if Ahsoka were still here, and could share that role, at least a little. A lot of things, Padme was pretty sure, would be easier--would be _better--_ if Ahsoka were still here.

 _I’ll just have to make it work somehow,_ she decided. _I’ll figure it out._

A tap came at her office door, interrupting her thoughts. “Yes?” she called.

“Oh! Mistress Padme,” Threepio said. “Mistress Ani has arrived, and is asking for you. And I must say, that medical droid you brought in is _frightfully_ rude. I should--”

“Thank you, Threepio,” she said. “Don’t worry about M-Twenty. Ani and I will handle him.”

“If you say so,” he said dubiously, and she heard him shuffle away as she opened the door and went out into the sitting room.

Anakin was perched on the edge of the couch, looking appropriately contrite with her hands up her sleeves and her head down.

“Hey,” Padme said.

She looked up. “I’m sorry,” she said immediately, the words tumbling out of her in a rush. “I _meant_ to be here, I really did, I wasn’t blowing this off, I know how important it is to you, I just--”

_She thinks that’s why I’m upset?_

“That’s not--” She sighed. “I just...I worry about you, that’s all. But _don’t_ do it again.”

“I won’t,” Anakin promised, then frowned a little. “Are _you_ okay?”

“What? Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know, you seem...upset. Not just about me.” That came with a sheepish, half-uncertain smile.

Padme rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry about it--Senate business, that’s all.”

Anakin’s frown deepened. “Anything I should know about?”

She shook her head. “Just some difficulties around the botanical imports vote tomorrow.” Which wasn’t _exactly_ a lie, since the meeting was scheduled around the vote.

It felt like one, though.

“Oh, that,” Anakin said, immediately losing interest.

Padme felt a spike of mingled gratitude for her wife’s tin ear for politics, and guilt for playing on it like this. “It’s important, Ani,” she said, with her best attempt at severity. “Failing to institute these protections could cause massive ecological damage for the worlds in question, which affects, among other things, galactic food supplies--”

“I know, I know,” Anakin said, standing up and approaching, bending to kiss her forehead lightly. Partly a test, to see if she was really forgiven or Padme pushed her away. They’d done that dance many times before. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it wasn’t _important,_ just…”

Padme accepted the kiss, and pulled Anakin down for a proper one, twining her fingers in her hair. “I know,” she said, in her turn. “And I love you anyway.”

Anakin grinned, and slipped her hands around Padme’s waist. “Love you, too. Always and always.”

And _that_ was heading in a direction that would mean their actually important plans for the evening getting quite pleasantly derailed, unless Padme put her foot down.

Which she did, somewhat reluctantly. “Checkup first,” she said.

Ani sighed, and rolled her eyes, but disengaged as well. “Fine.”

“Droid’s in the bedroom,” she said, taking Anakin’s hand and leading her there. “Can you stay the night, after?”

She nodded.

“Then we’ll have plenty of time,” she said, raising their joined hands to her lips and kissing Anakin’s knuckles softly. “Once we’re sure you and Baby are okay.”

“Baby?” she asked, with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, until you tell me an actual name…”

“I...uh.” She stopped. “I hadn’t even thought about that.”

Padme tugged at her arm a little to get her moving again. “You have time to decide.”

“We do,” Anakin agreed, and pushed open the bedroom door.

The droid shifted, its photoreceptors blinking a little as it took them in. “I am M-23-4287,” it announced.

“Nice to meet you,” Anakin said, letting go of Padme’s hand and giving a little half-bow. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Do you want me to wait outside?” Padme asked.

She shook her head. “Stay, please.”

“Please, sit,” M23-4287 said, gesturing with one clawed appendage. “And I will begin your examination.”

Padme curled up in a chair in the corner, where she could be out of the way but close enough that Anakin wouldn’t feel alone. And where she would find out, firsthand, that everything really was okay.

Setting all the rest of her problems aside for now, she focused on Anakin and M-Twenty, listening intently for the good news she knew they both needed right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went back and forth for a long time about how much the handmaidens know (part of why this chapter took so long, sorry!). In canon, they know...probably a fair amount, since at least Elle and Motee are in on Padme's pregnancy. And, like I mention here, they're not stupid women, Anakin and Padme have zero subtlety...
> 
> In the end, I went with what you see here; it made the most sense to me.
> 
> Thanks so much for sticking with me this far! <3
> 
> ~shadowsong


	8. Chapter 8

The Council meeting had gone about as well as Obi-Wan had expected it to. The other Councillors had made their general displeasure with the entire situation abundantly clear, Anakin had only proved their point for them when she lashed out in response to the ‘silent observer’ compromise they had finally settled on, and then they had all, as a group, moved on to other topics--Grievous, Kashyyyk--while Anakin sulked.

Although, on reflection, perhaps ‘sulked’ wasn’t the best way to describe her behavior. She had certainly given the impression that her response was rooted in inured pride, but there was something…

He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. And she was _still_ shutting him out, which had never ended well. And he had to convey to her the _other_ decision the Council had made. The one he had serious doubts about--he had voiced his objections to the plan in session, as strenuously as he could, but recused himself from the actual decision. He was too close to Anakin, and they all knew it.

_“Make her understand how important this is,” Mace had said, after they’d decided and before they’d called Anakin in. “She trusts you.”_

Which didn’t always mean she _listened_ to him, but he had a better chance than any of the others, and he knew it. He didn’t _like_ it, but he knew it. So he had agreed, of course, to do as they’d asked--despite his lingering reservations.

Including the fact that--well, above and beyond the personal considerations, Anakin was hardly skilled at dissembling. Depending on how bad the situation with the Chancellor really was (and, when it came right down to it, they didn’t _know_ exactly how bad it was; they simply knew he was both too genial and too powerful, and something _was not right;_ but the future was still clouded, hard to sense, even for Master Yoda). But, in the worst case scenario--or even a few steps below that--the orders he was constrained to give her might well put her in serious danger. Danger she was, for all her considerable talents, ill-equipped to combat.

But in the end, he had been overruled on all counts. And he did understand the necessity of the assignment, particularly now that Palpatine was trying to do the same thing in reverse. And Anakin _was_ uniquely positioned for it. So he would tell her, and try to make her see reason. As much as he ever could.

And yet...he couldn’t quite shake his unease over the whole mess, his certainty that this was the wrong move to make. Probably because it was, in some ways, entirely too similar to the Rako Hardeen affair--deceitful, underhanded, and, worst of all, resting the mission’s success or failure entirely on manipulating Anakin’s deep-rooted feelings, her too-intense attachments. Which they _should_ instead be helping her work through and let go.

While the overall operation at the time had been a success, that incident had very nearly backfired catastrophically on a personal level. He and Anakin had managed to patch things up, as they always did, but it hadn’t been easy. And _this_ time…

This time, he worried, any backlash would be far, far worse.

Besides all of that, there was a broader, deeper ethical issue in play.

_What have we become,_ he asked himself, _that we are so willing to sacrifice our own for political necessity?_

Which wasn’t entirely fair of him. This situation was nothing like what had happened to Ahsoka. Here, the situation was much graver. Here, the stakes were much higher. Here, the necessity was much clearer. And, more to the point, Anakin would _have_ the Council’s support, rather than seeing it withdrawn based on political pressure and less-than-solid evidence.

A part of him wondered, too, if he would be having the same reaction if this were any other Knight but Anakin. He couldn’t quite answer the question, which was why he’d recused himself in the first place. _It all comes down to attachment, and I’m as bad as she is,_ he thought, not for the first time.

But he put those thoughts aside for now and focused on the immediate problem he had to solve. The two of them had left the Council chamber together, and he could feel the tension rolling off her in waves, just waiting for the right moment to break forth.

About halfway back to their quarters, when they turned down a deserted hallway, she finally spoke. “What the hell is going _on,_ Obi-Wan? How can they put me on the Council and _not_ make me a Master? It’s never been done before. It’s...it’s _insulting.”_

“Calm _down,_ Anakin,” he said, and it came out a little harsher than he’d intended and immediately regretting it. _Well,_ that _just set the stage for this entire conversation,_ he thought. _This is not going to go well._ Of course, she hadn’t exactly made it easy for him. It was the same problem it _always_ was--the Council had made a decision she didn’t like, and she felt ill-used, untrusted, unwanted, because she hadn’t been a part of the discussion.

But arguing policy and procedure with her--especially since she was going to take what he actually had to say even worse--was best left for another time.

And, perhaps, he was overly conscious of his own bias, and going too far to the other extreme. He softened his tone and went on. “You have been given a great honor. To be on the Council at your age--it’s never happened before.”

She looked away. “I know,” she said. “I _know,_ I just--”

“Anakin,” he cut her off. _Might as well just get this over with._ “The fact of the matter is, you are too close to the Chancellor.” _Which is not the_ only _reason, just the most relevant right now._ It was always better to keep a narrow focus, when dealing with Anakin in situations like this. “The Council doesn’t like it when he interferes in Jedi affairs.”

She was quiet for a minute. “I didn’t ask for this. I swear to you, I _did not_ ask to be put on the Council.”

“But it’s what you wanted.”

And that was where things took an--unexpected turn.

She took a step back, then looked away. “Yeah. Of course.”

He paused. He’d supported the initial compromise, to put her on the Council as a silent observer, in part because of that. Because he’d thought it was what she wanted--she’d certainly made no secret of her desire to advance in the past. And because he had no doubt that actually _being_ on the Council would make her _miserable,_ but that being involved, even under less-than-ideal circumstances, might help her feel more secure. Might help her realize that, whatever conflicts of personality there might be, the Council as a whole did _not_ mistrust her, not the way she thought they did. The position might help her, in the end, discover that she would be happier and more fulfilled utilizing her own unique combination of skills and power where they were best applied, rather than chasing a higher rank and position simply because she thought that was the only way to be respected.

But now…

“Anakin--this _is_ what you wanted, isn’t it? You’ve wanted this for quite some time. I thought…”

“Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Anakin didn’t sound petulant anymore. She seemed--

_She feels...trapped?_

He looked at her again--really _looked_ this time, closely--and did not at all like what he saw.

Everything he’d been worried about before this damned mess landed in their laps came rushing back. Bant had been unable to tell him anything; apparently, it had been more than three _months_ since Anakin’s medical records had been updated. On the one hand, while a little longer than usual, such avoidance was hardly atypical for her. And at least it meant that Anakin hadn’t been _seriously_ injured in that time. But, at the same time, there was clearly _something_ going on with her, and he was _almost_ positive it was at least partially physical. When he found the time, he would be speaking with Kix about that, _at length._

But for now...

“Anakin, what’s wrong?” he asked, touching her arm and guiding her over to the window.

She shook her head, and pulled away. “Nothing’s wrong, Master,” she said. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Everything’s _going to be_ fine. I just…”

“Are you having nightmares again?” he asked.

She stiffened a little, which meant _yes,_ but then said, “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for _any_ of this. My friendship with the Chancellor isn’t--like that. It has nothing to do with this.”

Which meant she didn’t want to talk about what was really going on. She was hiding behind the argument of the moment, to avoid dealing with the deeper issues, which was so--so _very like her_ and intensely frustrating.

Well, he _could_ refuse to let her get away with it--he had, on occasion, in the past--but then they would argue, and she would stalk off and disappear for hours until she’d cooled down. And he would forget to give her her orders, and the sooner he got that over with, the better.

_But if I go_ that _route, she’s certainly not going to answer the_ other _questions._

He hesitated for a moment. Neither choice was particularly attractive. Either way, he lost something crucial.

In the end, he decided to err on the side of the Council’s wisdom, and followed her subject change. After all, if whatever was wrong with her was _really_ serious, even _she_ wouldn’t have been able to hide it like this.

Right?

_We’re not finished with the other argument, Padawan mine,_ he thought, and it was as much a promise to himself as a warning for her. _Just suspending it for a time._

“Anakin,” he said. “...I’m on your side in this. I want you to know that. All right?”

She stopped, and turned back to him. “What’s going on?”

He hesitated for half a second, then caught himself. _There is something to be said for finesse, for softening a blow, but all I’m really doing is stalling. That helps no one._ “The only reason the Council has approved your appointment is because the Chancellor trusts you.” And he could see it all flicker through her eyes--the bitter disappointment of the idealistic little girl he’d first met, who had hoped for the best despite all evidence to the contrary; coupled with the utter lack of surprise of the disillusioned adult she had become.

_And how much of_ that _is my fault, I wonder? And how much of it is the War, and how much of it is what happened to Ahsoka, and how much--_

Questions to meditate on later. For now, he had to get through _this_ conversation, without upsetting her to the point that she wouldn’t let him help her with the rest.

“I figured,” she finally said. “It’s not like they--never mind. What else? There’s something else, stop dancing around it.”

“Anakin…” He sighed. “I didn’t want to put you in this situation.”

_“What_ situation?”

It was his turn to look away. _Stalling again, Obi-Wan. Come on, you’re better than this._ “The Council wants you to report on all the Chancellor’s doings.” And wasn’t _that_ the coward’s way out? As if he weren’t on the Council himself. Just because he’d recused himself from this particular decision didn’t make what he’d said any less disingenuous. “They want to know what he’s up to.”

She was silent for a long moment. “They...they want me to spy on the Chancellor? But...that’s treason.”

“We are at war, Anakin.” Which had become the excuse for far too many things, over the past three years. He looked out the window, down at the fractured city below them. The fires from the battle mere days ago had burnt out, of course, but the scars still remained.

“Why didn’t the Council give me this assignment when we were in session?”

_Because it’s wrong. It’s_ necessary, _but it’s wrong, and we all know it._

Even if none of them were willing to say it. Even he hadn’t argued as hard as he could have. As he _should_ have.

Out loud, though, all he said was, “This assignment is not to be on the record.”

“The Chancellor is not a bad man, Obi-Wan,” Anakin said, earnestly. Almost pleadingly. That sensation of being _trapped_ only intensified. “He befriended me. He’s watched out for me ever since I arrived here.”

_I know he has,_ Obi-Wan thought. _That’s why you’re the only one who can do this._ “Anakin, our allegiance is to the Senate, not to its leader. Who has managed to stay in office long after his term has expired.” And there was more to it than that, all of the Councillors thought so, but none of them could put it into words.

Too many problems, these days, seemed to be like that. Indescribably  _wrong._

“The Senate demanded that he stay longer,” she pointed out.

“Yes,” he acknowledged. “And I know he’s been a friend to you. But use your feelings, Anakin. Something is out of place.”

Which was the wrong thing to say. No sooner had he said the words then he knew that. Anakin’s eyes narrowed. “You’re asking me to do something that’s against the Jedi Code, against the Republic, against a mentor and a _friend._ That’s what’s out of place here.”

_I know._

_“Why_ are you asking this of me?”

_Because we have no_ choice. _Because every day, he accumulates more power, and maybe--_ maybe _\--he’s as patriotic and altruistic as you want him to be, but that seems less and less likely every day. Because if we’re right, we need to know more. Because if we’re right, we_ need _to be able to counteract Palpatine before he can do any permanent damage--if he hasn’t already._

_But you’re not wrong. You’re not wrong, we’re_ losing _something by taking this step. As we’ve lost so much along the way, and I don’t know where it will_ stop. _And what we’re doing to you--oh, Anakin, I’m so, so sorry._

Of course, he couldn’t say any of that out loud. He knew what his duty was--to the Council, and to the Order, and to the Republic as a whole. And right now, as difficult as it was, his duty was to convince her to do this thing. Because he was absolutely, fundamentally sure that the Council _was_ right about Palpatine, he just couldn’t prove it.

The only answer he could give her was the woefully inadequate one, the one that would keep them intact just a little while longer, allow them to do what needed to be done, no matter how unpleasant. No matter how much it hurt in the short run. It would all be for the best in the end.

Or so he devoutly hoped.

“The Council is asking you,” he said quietly.

She stared at him for a long moment, then sighed and deflated, slumping a little against the window. He got the distinct impression of a wall starting to close in on her mind, but then her shields locked up tight again, and all he had to go on was body language. She seemed so pale, and so tired, and so _young_ in that moment. “You’re wrong about him. I’m going to _prove_ it. That’s why I’m doing this. All right?”

He wished he could believe her. “All right. But promise me--you’ll report honestly. Completely. Even if you don’t like what you see.”

“Of course I will,” she said, just shy of snapping. “If _you’ll_ promise _me_ that you’ll listen. Even if you don’t like what I have to say.”

“I will,” he said. “Anakin--”

“I have to go,” she said, pushing away from the wall and brushing past him. “I have a Djem So class to teach. I promised Master Draillig.”

“All right,” he said. He thought about asking to walk with her, but--

_Give her space. She just needs time to process this. She’ll come around. She always does._

“I’ll see you tonight, then,” he said, rather pointedly.

“Yeah,” she said, and then was gone.

He watched her go, then ran a hand down his face and sighed. It was done--for better or worse, it was done. The next move would be the Chancellor’s--all he could do was wait for it.

_I’ll see Master Yoda off,_ he decided. _He’ll want a report on how this went. So will Master Windu. Then I’ll track Kix down, see if there’s anything he knows that he hasn’t reported. Or perhaps try again to backtrace what she's been researching. Or maybe go see Padme…_

One of those, surely, would help him figure out the best way to help Anakin through whatever she was struggling with. He only hoped that it wasn’t too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was a long and awkward conversation, heh. But it was always going to be, and we're past it now, hurray!
> 
> Also! I will be doing a bonus fic of some kind for Star Wars Day (May 4). A bit more info on that [on my writing tumblr](https://shadowsong26fic.tumblr.com/post/159171709647/bonus-fic). Feel free to let me know if there's something specific you'd like to see, on that list or otherwise!
> 
> Thanks so much for sticking with me thus far! <3
> 
> ~shadowsong


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a note for this chapter--it contains more bloody/kidnapping nightmares, non-graphic vomiting, and an oblique reference to sexual assault. As I've mentioned before, no one has been or will be in this story, but the concept gets referenced.

Padme was still out when Anakin snuck into her apartment under cover of a scheduled evening rainstorm, which was--fine. Not the first time it had happened, wouldn’t be the last. At least the only person there was Threepio, who knew everything anyway.

...well, she wasn’t sure he knew about the  _ baby, _ but everything else.

She let him fuss over her for a minute, while she tried to focus on just spending a quiet evening at home with Padme, not everything else that was going wrong in her life right now. Fussing made him happy, and she had long since learned to tune him out.

Which, now that she thought about it, was…

She paused, halfway through taking off her boots so he could put them, along with her cloak, somewhere out of the way where they could dry completely without revealing her presence. “Threepio,” she started, then stopped, unsure how to word it.

“Yes, Mistress Ani?”

“You...uh, you remember that I built you, right?”

“Why, yes, of course I do,” he said. “And I am as ever grateful to you for--”

“Sure, sure,” she interrupted.  _ That’s not why I asked. _ And then came another stab of--uncertainty.  _ I just did it  _ again. _ Damn it. _ “I just...wanted to ask.”

“Of course,” he said again. After a beat, he added, “Do let me take your boots? I’m afraid you’ll be dreadfully chilled if you leave them on.”

“Oh. Uh. Right.” She got back to what she was doing, chewing over the question some more. “Threepio,” she tried again. “Do you...do you ever…”

“Do I what?” he asked, photoreceptors flickering once or twice in an approximation of a puzzled blink.

“Feel like...like I don’t...like I abandoned you?”

There was a long moment of silence before he answered. “I’m afraid I don’t entirely know what you mean, Mistress Ani,” he said apologetically. “Abandoned me?”

“Before, on Tatooine,” she said. “When I first went to the Temple. And...and after the wedding, I sort of just...left you again, here with Padme.” And while the first was maybe okay, because she’d been--what, nine, ten? A kid, anyway--the second was…

“Oh, dear,” Threepio said, fingers whirring as he fidgeted anxiously with Anakin’s robe. “Is Mistress Padme upset with me?”

“What? No,” she said. “I mean, I have no reason to think that--this isn’t about Padme, it’s about me. And you. And how I--I  _ made _ you, I was supposed to...to take care of you, and instead I...do you ever wish I’d done that? Kept you with me?”

“Oh, dear,” he said again. “Oh, dear, oh, dear. I--well, as I said, Mistress Ani, you are my Maker and I’m eternally grateful to you for that, but--but battlefields are so terribly  _ dangerous, _ and I  _ am _ primarily programed for etiquette and I’m sure I would be entirely superfluous to a General in the field and--I’m  _ quite _ certain I’m far more useful here. If you don’t mind my saying so.”

_ This is not--I’ve only upset him, what the hell was I thinking? _ “Of course,” she said, trying to sound soothing and not start  _ crying _ or something stupid like that. “Of course, and you’re happy here and--and I would never want to put you in harm’s way. All right? Just--just forget I said anything. I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize to me,” he assured her, but he sounded  _ intensely _ relieved. He paused a moment. “Are you quite all right? Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No, I’m--I’m just tired,” she said.  _ And a little nauseous, _ she added silently. She wasn’t sure if it was because she wasn’t sleeping well--the nightmares were only getting more awful--or if her body was just trying to make up for lost time while she was away from the front. Either way, the nausea had definitely gotten a lot worse, and more frequent, since she’d gotten back to Coruscant.

“Ah,” he said, as if that explained everything. Maybe it did. “Perhaps you might go lie down for a moment, then?” he suggested. “Mistress Padme should be back shortly. I can tell her where you are when she arrives.”

Now that he mentioned it, that seemed like an excellent idea. “Yeah, okay,” she said. “Thank you, Threepio.”

“Of course, Mistress Ani,” he said, then shuffled off with her wet things as she padded over to the bedroom, running a hand through her hair as she went. Not much of the rain had gotten past her hood, of course, but it was still a little damp and she didn’t want to leave wet spots on the pillows.

Unfortunately, going to bed seemed like a much  _ less _ excellent idea after she’d actually done it; climbed into her side and curled up, waiting for the sheets to warm to her body temperature.

It was just...a very  _ big _ bed.

Most of the time, that was a good thing. Padme had a tendency to sprawl, especially when she thought it was too warm--which she usually did, when Anakin slept over. And Anakin herself, of course, had nightmares and moved around a lot. She had the bruises from falling out of her narrow bunk at the Temple, or on the  _ Resolute, _ to prove it.

But when it was just her here, alone in the dark, with the hum of traffic outside slightly muffled by the rain pattering against the window…

She felt very small, and very, very alone.

She wished Padme were here. Or that she were closer to Padme’s family--Jobal or Sola might have advice for her on the whole...thing. Certainly nothing she’d managed to access in the Temple Archives had been any help. And she didn’t--she didn’t know anyone else.

Well. Except the Chancellor, but she couldn’t exactly go to  _ him _ for help. Not this time. And yes, he had always said she could come to him with  _ anything, _ but...she couldn’t--she couldn’t bear to disappoint him, to  _ fail _ him in that way. He was depending on her to be who and what she was, and she just...she just wanted…

She wanted her  _ mom. _

Mom wouldn’t be disappointed in her. Mom would know what to say, would know what she should do.

_ Mom was--probably scared, too, _ she realized.  _ That someone would...that someone would take  _ me _ away. _

The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth, which did the exact opposite of helping her nausea.

And it was different. She  _ knew _ it was different. Obi-Wan had worked  _ very hard _ to make sure she did. But at the same time…it was close. Especially now.

There was another disturbingly similar thing, too. Mom had always said Anakin didn’t have a father. Once she was old enough to stop taking things like that at face value, Anakin had sort of figured that it was a lie, told to protect her from which of the several possible horrible things the truth really was.

It hadn’t ever really  _ mattered, _ anyway She’d had her mom, and then the Chancellor, and Obi-Wan for a while (he was her brother  _ now, _ but it had been different when she was little). She hadn’t ever  _ needed _ a biological father.

But now…

Now, she wasn’t so sure.

She tightened her hands over her stomach, wishing that was enough to keep her child safe. And wishing that she could just comm her mother.

_ I can’t. I  _ can’t _ do that. And focusing on this is--it’s not helping.  _ None _ of this is helping. _

She closed her eyes and let out a breath, trying to relax her muscles one by one, just like she’d been taught when she was little, willing her mind to still along with them. She’d been meditating more (or trying, at least), in the last few days than she had since the war began--it still didn’t do what it was  _ supposed  _ to, but sometimes she thought she could feel the baby’s heartbeat.

It might be just remembering the scan the droid had done; especially since there was a weird echo effect when she heard it that was  _ soothing, _ rather than terrifying, so she figured it was something like that and had managed not to panic about it. But it was still...real or not, proper meditation or not, it was a better way to wait for Padme than what she’d been doing.

_ Breathe in. Let it out slow. Relax. Listen. Listen… _

 

_ A child is crying, far away, fading. _

_ She tries to get to her feet; slips in the blood; there is so much blood why is there so much blood. _

_ She reaches out, cries out for help; but Padme isn’t here and Obi-Wan is-- _

_ There is a sense of...fracture, a breach, how-could-you-do-this, walking away, and then a horrible, aching  _ void _ in the Force. _

_ Something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong. _

_ Her child is still crying and she can’t save her because she is completely and totally alone. _

 

She just barely made it to the ‘fresher before throwing up.

When she was done, she sank back on the tile floor with her head in her hands, taking deep, shaky breaths.

That one had been--bad. Maybe not the worst; there had been one, right after the Council had had Obi-Wan have her spy on the  _ Chancellor, _ where he’d been--where he’d turned away from her with a child in his arms.

She’d thrown up after that one, too.

But this--this--this was at  _ least  _ the  _ next- _ worst-case scenario. She couldn’t--she couldn’t decide. Right now, she still felt that--it still felt  _ real, _ like the blood after the first one, that aching emptiness in her heart and soul and she had her comlink out to call him, to make  _ sure _ he was all right, before she realized what she was doing.

_...I can’t. I  _ can’t, _ he’ll know how upset I am and ask why, and if I lie to him we’ll fight about that and if I  _ tell  _ him… _

The visions were  _ absolutely  _ clear on that point--if she told him, she would  _ lose _ him. One way or another. There was no possible positive outcome to telling him about her baby, not right now. He would be--he would be extremely upset with her, extremely  _ disappointed _ in her, and then he’d...then he’d either side with the Council, like he seemed to be doing more and more often these days, or he’d…or he’d...

He’d be distracted. By  _ her _ problems. When he could least afford it.

When the war was over, when he was in less danger, maybe then she could explain, make him understand. Because, like Padme said, he  _ would _ find out someday, and it would probably be at least a  _ little  _ less awful if she did it on her terms. But right now, she couldn’t risk it. Not when Grievous was still out there.

_ They’ll find him soon, _ she told herself.  _ They’ll find him soon, and then Obi-Wan and I will go kill him together and everything will be  _ right _ again. _

She let out another breath and made herself put the comlink away. Besides, she remembered, they’d argued this morning. She couldn’t exactly remember what it was about--in her defense, though, she hadn’t had any caf; she’d read somewhere last night that it might be bad for the baby and been too busy freaking out over the fact that she may have already hurt her child to pay much attention to what Obi-Wan was lecturing her about this time. Something about Kix, and her records, maybe?

Well, it didn’t really matter now, anyway. She’d stormed off to cool down, and it was--she’d planned to avoid him for a while, not reopen the argument by poking him too soon. She’d comm him tomorrow, when she was calmer. It was better that way.

_ Okay. _ She was--well, as calm as she could get right now, and she was reasonably sure she wasn’t about to throw up again. She was starting to work herself up to standing, maybe rinsing that vile taste out of her mouth when--

“Ani?” Padme called, tapping lightly on the bathroom door.

She jumped. She hadn’t heard--or even felt--her wife getting home, but she must have been back for a while, to have dismissed the handmaidens and gotten Threepio’s message.  _ Stupid. Stupid, stupid,  _ stupid, _ got all wrapped up in your head again--distractions like that will get you killed. You  _ know  _ better. _ “I’m in here,” she said. “Uh. Door’s open, you can come in if you want.”

The door slid open, and there was her wife, beautiful as a spring morning and a little worried.

“I threw up,” she said, looking down at her hands and feeling something sharp at the corners of her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Padme said. “Do you want--I can boot up the med droid again.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not...I just threw up. I’m okay now.”

“You said you hadn’t been getting sick much.”

“Yeah, but  _ sometimes.” _ She winced a little. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m sorry.”

“You’re tired, and you’re not feeling well,” Padme said, coming all the way into the room and touching her hand lightly.

Which wasn’t the same as ‘it’s okay,’ which was--actually almost  _ comforting. _ To know that she’d screwed up, that she’d done something wrong, but Padme still loved her, anyway.

_ I don’t deserve you. _

She took a deep breath and managed not to burst into tears by a supreme effort of will.

Some of it must have shown on her face, because Padme frowned a little and brushed her cheek. “What’s wrong? Did you--did you have another nightmare, or…?”

Anakin shook her head rapidly. “No,” she lied. “I’m--I’m fine.”

“Please don’t do this,” she said quietly. “Don’t shut me out. Let me  _ help _ you.”

_I don’t know that you_ can. “I’m not--” She swallowed. Well, all right, she kind of was, a little, but… “I don’t want--can you--can you just...hold me? Like at Varykino, back when...back when everything was simple, a-and we were…?”

“Okay,” Padme said, sitting down next to her and holding her close. “It’s okay, love,” she murmured, stroking Anakin’s hair. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

She shivered a little and leaned into it. She had always liked when Padme played with her hair like this. It made her feel...safe; loved; at peace, for just a moment.

“I think…” she said, after a few seconds, her head resting on Padme’s shoulder. “I think I upset Threepio earlier.”

“He’ll live,” she said dryly. “He’s easy to upset. Next time you build a droid, maybe keep an eye out for that.”

She couldn’t help but smile at that. “Well, I mean, it’s not like I had a lot of personality modules to choose from…”

“I know,” she said, and kissed the top of Anakin’s head. “Only teasing.”

“Yeah.” She sighed, letting her eyes drift shut. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Feeling better?”

She nodded. “A little.”

“Good,” Padme said. “Want to go back to bed, or do you need to stay here?”

Anakin thought about it for a moment--she wasn’t nearly as queasy anymore, and Padme would be in the bed with her, so it wouldn’t feel so big and lonely. Plus, the tiles were  _ cold. _ “Bed,” she decided. “Just let me rinse out my mouth first?”

“All right,” she said, and kissed her cheek before standing up. “I’ll see you in a minute.” She ran her hand over Anakin’s hair one more time, and Anakin opened her eyes and smiled, watching her go.

It wasn’t until the door hissed shut behind her wife that a horrible thought occurred.

In the dreams--in the visions--Obi-Wan wasn’t the  _ only _ one who was gone.

True, Padme wasn’t _gone_ gone in the dreams. Not in danger, not--not _dead,_ Just...not _there._ For some reason, some unknown, nightmarish reason, when their baby was born and stolen away--Padme wouldn’t _be_ _there._

Anakin shuddered, and bit the inside of her cheek hard enough that she tasted blood.

She couldn't let that happen.  She couldn’t--she _couldn’t_ lose  _ both _ of them.

She dragged herself up and turned on the water, scowling at her pallid reflection in the mirror--because getting mad was better than staying terrified. She  _ would _  fix this. She  _had_ to.

Somehow, she would find a way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...yeah, Anakin's head is not a happy place right now. Um.
> 
> With regard to the 'undiagnosed twins' plothole, I've decided to take artistic license and let it stand. Meaning Anakin is not yet aware there is more than one baby.
> 
> Anyway, uh, sorry this took so long! ::headwall:: I promise, the next one will be out in less than a month. <.< We have an _Opera_ to attend. Should be loads of fun!
> 
> Thanks so much for your patience, and sticking around! <3
> 
> ~shadowsong


	10. Chapter 10

The board was set.

It was not an  _ ideal _ setting, precisely--Sidious had had to rush the last few pieces into place--but all that really meant was that the death throes of the Republic would be messier and more protracted than he’d prefer. He foresaw no significant difficulty in securing his victory. The situation was still well within the margin of error, so to speak.

So, too, with Anakin. Oh, he would rather let her stew for a while longer; let the tension escalate, with her caught in the middle, while he and the Council, at least on the surface, simply watched one another and  _ waited; _ daring one another to blink first, to make a move, to show their hand.

For an active personality like Anakin, the pressure would have been intense even  _ without _ the creeping dissatisfaction he had taken care to cultivate. And, while her--condition--was still an overall negative, the increased emotional volatility brought on by the rapid physiological changes she was enduring certainly didn’t hurt.

But, alas,  _ time _ was not currently operating in his favor. Without revealing his knowledge, he had been unable to determine  _ exactly _ how far along Anakin was, but he doubted that her robes and the--admittedly somewhat clever--care she was taking with her posture and body language would hold up for much longer. He had already caught her shields  _ almost _ slipping once. Eventually, it would happen again, in front of someone who could take advantage. Intentionally or otherwise.

So, it was time to move on; to rid himself of Grievous and, with any luck, Kenobi as well. And, in so doing, drive another wedge between his protegee and the Council.  _ And, _ for the first time, actively nudge her towards the correct alternative. A necessary step, and a delicate one, requiring careful timing--too soon, and she would recoil and revert, wasting thirteen years of effort. Too  _ late, _ and he risked her breaking in an unknown direction, again resulting in a significant loss of potential. He hardly thought that second option  _ likely, _ of course--Anakin had always craved someone to follow--but it was one he needed to prepare for. Particularly because, as he had all too recently been shown, for all the time he’d spent studying her, Anakin could  _ still, _ on occasion, do something he couldn’t predict.

Today, though, she was behaving exactly as expected. Thus far. Right on cue, she stepped into his box at the Opera with a brief bow, eyes sliding past Sly Moore and Mas Amedda to rest on him.

She was a little pale, and visibly, obviously  _ tired. _

Good. He’d hoped for that; it would leave her off-balance, make it that much easier for him to guide her along.

“You wanted to see me, Excellency?” she asked.

He schooled his face into a warm, avuncular smile with the ease of long practice. “Yes, Anakin! Please, join me.” He waited for her to approach and kneel next to his chair, then went on. “I have good news. Our Clone Intelligence units have discovered the location of General Grievous. He’s hiding in the Utapau system.”

Only the necessary decorum of the moment, he suspected, kept her from slumping a little in relief. As it was, the set of her shoulders visibly relaxed. “At  _ last,” _ she breathed. “We can finally capture him and end this.”

_ Indeed, _ he thought.  _ At last. _ “I would worry about the collective wisdom of the Council if they didn’t select you for this assignment. You are the best choice by far.”

She flushed faintly, but didn’t try to deny it.

Which  _ was _ actually true; Anakin would be an excellent choice to dispatch the General--but the Council  _ wouldn’t _ send her, of course. If only because the suggestion had come from him. Which was precisely the point of flattering her in that particular way in this moment. He wanted her right where she was.

“Sit down,” he said, indicating the seat next to him and gesturing for the others to leave.

She did as he asked, resting her hands a little awkwardly on the arms, pretending she was watching the performance. In reality, she was quivering inside, like a quetarra string tuned a step too high. Waiting for what he had to say.

_ And now we begin. _

“Anakin,” he said softly, “you know I’m not able to rely on the Council. If they haven’t yet included you in their plot, they soon will.”

She blinked, and glanced over at him. “I...I don’t understand.”

He let his smile slip a hair, affecting great grief with a veneer of placid enjoyment. In case anyone was looking their way, of course.

“Surely, you sense what I have come to suspect.”

She said nothing; he had hardly expected her to.

“The Jedi Council want control of the Republic,” he said. “They’re planning to betray us.”

She flinched a little. “I don’t…”

“Anakin,” he said. “Search your feelings. You know, don’t you.”

She looked away, her hands snaking up into her sleeves as they always did when she was uncomfortable. “I...I know they don’t trust you.”

_ Because, from time to time, they actually show a spark of insight. _

“Or the Senate,” he said. “Or the Republic. Or  _ democracy, _ for that matter.”

She was quiet for a long moment, then admitted, “My trust in them  _ has _ been shaken.”

“Why?” he asked, letting his eyes widen just a touch--surprise, but not much of it; concern. Then, with dawning comprehension, he added, “They asked you to do something that made you feel dishonest, didn’t they.”

She flinched, and stared determinedly down at the carpet, not even making a pretense of watching the dancers anymore.

“They asked you to spy on me, didn’t they,” he continued sadly.

She swallowed, tensing again. “I…” She trailed off. “I don’t...I’m sorry.”

He sighed, and patted her arm gently. “It’s...only natural of them, I suppose. Remember back to your early teachings, Anakin. Everyone wants to protect what is theirs, particularly things like power and influence.”

She withdrew again; not unexpected. “The Jedi use their power for good.”

He smiled a little, without humor. “Good is a point of view.” He paused. Yes; this was the right moment. “The Dark Lords of the Sith believe in security and justice, also. In fact, the Sith and the Jedi are similar in almost every way...including their quest for greater power. The difference between the two is the Sith are not afraid of the dark side of the Force. That is why they are more powerful. More...effective.”

Which was the real point he wanted to make here. What he had to offer her, given her current circumstances, was more  _ nuance _ than any specific ability, unlike what he had initially planned. But he was confident he could present it well enough to sway her.

“It is remarkable,” he went on, ostensibly turning his attention back to the ballet, “for example, that the Sith managed to stay so well hidden for so long.”

“You sound as though you  _ admire _ them,” Anakin said, just a hair too quickly--but not  _ quite _ accusingly. She had never dared be so impertinent with him, as she was with all other nominal authority in her life.

As if she’d known, from the beginning, where her destiny--and her obedience--must lie.

“Well,” he said, “it is hardly unusual to respect a skilled enemy, is it? Better than to underestimate them, certainly.”

“That’s true,” she said, relaxing a little. Back on safe, familiar ground.

“Too many secrets, of course, breeds corruption,” he said. “Deception, even of those who should be our allies.”

She squirmed a little. Good.

“But, particularly in wartime, I have found that some secrets are sadly necessary,” he went on, as if he hadn’t noticed her discomfort. “And studying Sith tactics for keeping them...well, there can be little doubt that the Sith excel at protecting what is theirs.”

She latched onto that. “But that’s--that’s the difference, isn’t it? The Sith--they think inward, only about themselves.”

“And the Jedi don’t?”

She shook her head. “The Jedi are selfless. They only care about others.”

He smiled. “Or so you’ve been trained to believe.” He shook his head. “Remember what I said about point of view, Anakin. I very much doubt things are quite so simple as Jedi doctrine would have you believe. After all, have they not asked you to do something you feel is wrong?”

She was silent for a monet. “Yes,” she finally said. “But…”

“Think,” he urged. “Consider their motives. What secrets might they be keeping from you, still? And what are  _ they _ trying to protect, if not their own power?”

She didn’t answer, frowning down at the stage.

And now, the next step--as a counterpoint to the Jedi and their manipulations and deceit; it was time to tell her what the Sith had to offer. What she wanted most in all the galaxy.

It had taken him some time to come up with an appropriate snippet of history to guide her to this point, after her pregnancy had forced him to step back and reassess.

Unlike the Jedi, the Sith rarely took on children as acolytes. He himself had been in his late teens when Plagueis had found him, and Tyranus of course had been an experienced adult when he had turned. Maul had been an exception, a gift from his mother; and Sidious’ other experiments with infants had had a different, lesser goal in mind. This had been the general practice for several generations. For all the potential value in early indoctrination, most Sith preferred apprentices who were...seasoned. Who knew something of the galaxy, and had their own intrinsic reasons for seeking to control it. They were more effective that way.

But there  _ was _ a predecessor he could draw on, without giving away more information about his own role than was wise at this point in time. There  _ was  _ a remote chance that Anakin would ask how he knew some of these details; but he doubted she would. She had long since stopped questioning where he got his knowledge, and this wasn’t  _ quite _ far enough over the edge to make her start up again.

“I wonder,” he mused, after letting her sit for a moment. “Are you familiar at all with Darth Zannah?”

She blinked, and glanced up at him briefly. “She was Darth Bane’s apprentice, wasn’t she?”

“Yes,” he said. “And, according to legend, Zannah was but a small child when Bane first took her under his wing. And yet, she was  _ never  _ identified during her apprenticeship, not even as an assassin, or some other kind of lesser dark side adept. So young, and so soon after the Sith had gone underground, and...no one knew of her unless she or her guardian chose to let them.”

She was quiet for a moment, considering and struggling with the potential implications. “But he only protected her so he could use her later,” she finally said.

_ And the Jedi approach to  _ their  _ young is so different? _

But--no, he had already made that point; reiterating it in this context would be too specific, too heavy-handed, even as disillusioned as she was. Words had weight, had  _ power, _ and using the right or wrong one could make all the difference in the galaxy.

“Perhaps,” he acknowledged instead. “But, unfortunately, Bane is hardly the only one to blur that line with a child in his care. After all, even ordinary parents, when their child shows extraordinary genius, can begin to focus on the child’s potential rather than her well-being. The Sith are...merely the most effective at doing so.”

Her eyes were intent on the stage, but her  _ focus  _ was on everything he’d said. He could feel her mind whirling; her heart racing. She held the arms of her seat in a death grip, the knuckles of her flesh hand white with tension, at least in part to keep her hands in place and prevent a--protective gesture; a  _ revelation. _

_ Instinct, _ he thought, amused. It was remarkable how much better she was at concealing  _ this _ than she ever had been with her affections for Amidala. The reason for that--well, the stakes were somewhat higher, perhaps, due to mammalian parental biological imperatives; or possibly the mere fact that her charade had an  _ inevitable  _ end, and all she could really do was buy time, had made her--desperate. Focused, in a way that the consequences of her liaison becoming public knowledge could never inspire.

Such instincts would be overcome and set aside in time, of course. For now, though, they worked in his favor.

“That’s true,” she admitted at last. “And...I-I imagine...lots of parents would want to--protect their children. From the war, or anything...anything else that might...take them away.”

Words had weight, had  _ power. _ Darth Sidious chose his next words with great care.

“Yes, I imagine so,” he said. “And just think what someone truly well-intentioned could do, if they knew their that their children, that the people most precious to them, were safe. If they were free to act, to do what was necessary to restore peace and stability to the galaxy, without having to worry about those they love coming to harm along the way.”

And…

_ Click. _

It was almost audible, the pieces falling into place, as the association between Sith power and protection for her chosen few found acceptance and took root in her mind.

“That would be...incredible,” she said softly. “If it were possible.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is,” he said, fighting to keep the triumphant smile off of his face. “I have no doubt that the knowledge exists...if one only knows where to look.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [What to Expect When You're (Magical Force) Expecting](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11593431) by [Rachaelizame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachaelizame/pseuds/Rachaelizame)




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